Page 2 of Embers in the Wind

Chapter 2

Embry

Acrunching sound behind me causes my heart to hammer in my chest.

The forest animals scurry, rapidly jumping from tree to tree, racing along the forest floor causing the dried leaves to crunch at their feet. The oak trees stand tall and proud, their majestic trunk circumferences all centuries old, and just as wide as I slip in between the protection of their girth.

Waiting for danger to pass.

Cooler breezes blow lightly, swirling, moving the underbrush of the forest floor as I make my way to safety. It has to be close by. The journey has been farther and taken longer than it should. I can barely keep my eyes open as I look for signs of the much-remembered place.

Doubt swirls in my mind. Maybe I should go back.

Descriptions of the pathways may be years and years old, but still Gramma’s directions remain vivid and clear as I walk the journey, that even years ago, Gramma must have known I would need to make today.

All the trees may be slowly baring, but winter has not yet come to call. The temp may be a little brisk, but at least we’restill in the peak of fall. No matter that it’s dark and the brilliant colors of nature cannot be seen, when the sun shines in the morning, the magnificent plume will bring the entire forest to life, while hopefully I’ve found somewhere to rest out of the sun.

Planning to make the journey in one day or two was more than silly on my part. At least not knowing the forest floor as well as I should before venturing through the vastness of the land. The Mystic Forest outside of the Carpathian Mountains is known for its immensity. I should have remembered from so many others who have traveled it before.

I’ve heard the rumors, and knew the dangers, yet not even those could keep me away.

I have been fortunate along the way. Creatures of the land coming to my aid in many shapes and forms, providing guidance, if only with a gentle nod of a head to put me in the right direction when lost. But land in the Mystic Forest can provide an abundance of sustenance as long as you know where to look and friendly creatures to guide the way.

Gramma prepared me for this journey well with all the stories that she told, but still, a few of the tales are dim from age. But the generosity of those who live in the land seems to know no end, offering me sustenance and temporary shelter as I find my way deep into the forest, to a cavern that gramma used as a child and that she described so many years ago.

My cape pulled tightly around me, I step from the protection of the trees carefully, hoping danger has passed, trying to avoid disrupting the sleep of the animals and creatures again. The mean ones. The ones that will shred me to pieces without a bit of remorse.

I urge myself on, past my fears and the relentless fatigue after the previous day’s journey in flight. They say we are the fortunate ones because vampires can transport where they want to go in a blink of an eye, but it’s not so fast or without lingeringfatigue, especially when the journey is that far. Already my provisions, especially the fresh blood, are in short supply having used so much more to regain my strength than I planned.

The forest sounds quiet again, free once again of danger, at least for a short while. I’ve barely started moving again, when a branch cracks on the ground right in front of me.

Bright eyes shine through the night, almost causing me to transform and make for the treetops as fast as my bat wings can carry me, but the wolf is only watchful. Keeping his eyes peeled on me as I make my way onward, giving no signs of aggression, bedding down to watch me move from treetop to treetop until out of his sight.

My breathing slowly returns to normal as I transition back for at least the fiftieth time since starting out on this journey. I’ll make it, because no one dares to cross the angry vampiress who is rumored to have more combat skills than most when it comes to the sword.

And once I do, I’ll have peace, solitude, and serenity to get me through the day. Gone will be the ugly whispers of creatures who have no idea what it’s like to be me.

The clearing ahead gives me cause for worry, leaves me out in the open and vulnerable, but on the other hand gives me hope. A landmark in Gramma’s directions that tells me soon I’ll see a winding river and follow its bend. If memory serves there will be an overgrown patch of ivy growing up the side of a hill, seemingly at home here in the foothills of the Carpathians, but with a door hidden behind its wall of green.

And when I walk through that ornate carved entrance, I’ll be home. Away from all the gossip, the prying eyes, and busybodies who have nothing better to do than talk about my shame. And then I can rest, refresh and find myself again.

Fuck every one of those assholes that keep whispering my name. I don’t need them and their world. They may haveturned me, kept me safe on more than one occasion, but where were they when I needed them most? And where was the loyalty instead of thinking I’d strayed? All they cared about was catching the rogue vamp, and of course the infamous Lucas who I hope is laying in a pile of ashes in the bowels of hell.

After all that I’ve done, my grandmother has done for them? How could they have possibly thought I was a traitor? That I would allow anyone close enough to harm my friends, my family and my coven, at least knowingly. No matter that the enemy slept in my bed.

My breath catches momentarily pulled from my despair as I follow the beauty of the ice blue mountain water, bathed in the clearing's moonlight I was almost afraid to follow. The majestic stream, home and respite to so many creatures for survival and pleasure. Right now, it means I’m mere minutes from my new home.

Even with the moonlight the ivy on the hills is hard to discern from the underbrush and growth, but my keen night vision homes in on the pattern of the trailing vines, hanging from the hillside that will be my refuge, at least for a while.

Somehow the fact that gramma was here, and that her stories led me here sooth the ache inside that otherwise would still be filled with utter despair.

Crashing leaves and branches overhead cause me to tense, but instinct tells me there’s no danger this time, it’s just the scramble of birds getting tucked in for the night. I head into the lit clearance, hugging the hood of my black cape, keeping my body warmth from seeping into the crisp night air as I make my way to the secret door, looking this way and that to ensure I am not seen.

I slide my hand over the roughness of the old green door, feeling around underneath the ivy until I find the doorknob. Gramma said the key to opening it is simply to open it. It willknow intuitively that I have arrived and will welcome me no matter the state I’m in.

At least that’s how the story went so many years ago…

I take a deep breath, hoping one last time that the childhood stories told to put me to sleep by an aging grandmother are true and will unfold as she described to me and that an angry owner will not tear me to pieces for disturbing its peace.

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